


The Boys of Blue

by montomychevy



Category: Versailles (TV 2015)
Genre: Brothers, Established Relationship, Fluff and Angst, Light Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-07
Updated: 2018-12-07
Packaged: 2019-09-13 17:33:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16896969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/montomychevy/pseuds/montomychevy
Summary: Perhaps they thought it would be simple after returning to the arms of each other. Perhaps they we're just hoping. Or, perhaps their love was most definitely worth it all.//Moments of Monchevy set after the series finale//





	The Boys of Blue

Philippe’s eyes slowly opened from the glaring sun out his window, and his gaze lingered on the light streaming to the empty side of his bed. A peaceful wake up call was all he had asked from his Chevalier the night before, but he hadn’t recalled telling the blonde that he had wished to wake up _alone_. No, he thought, the duke had specifically asked for a whole day in the bedroom, lounging and eating and not-so-discretely going at it with his loved one. This was, then, a true disappointment.

He leaned over to the right side, fingering the linen of Chevalier’s still-indented pillow. Stretching his hand to pull it closer to his pale face, he inhaled the scent deeply.

_Could it be possible for someone to love a smell so much? Could it be possible to have such a tumultuous relationship with the provider of this scent, and yet need them more than anything else?_

Philippe often pondered his fondness of Chevalier in the mornings, though most of the time it was when the other man was still deeply asleep beside him, peaceful in a way that usually did not seem to suit him. He thought of how the months after Philippe had returned from war for the second time were ones not of sorrow, but of confusion and loss. Perhaps it was the lingering feeling of guilt for not being deemed responsible enough by the court - though, more importantly, his brother - that led him to end the whirlwind that was Chevalier and his romance. Perhaps it was the dramatic lifestyle of Lorraine that made Philippe decide it was not needed any longer; that it provided no benefit in times of difficulty.

Or, perhaps, most likely, he had deemed himself unworthy of the love that Chevalier gave to him in every look, and touch, and taste. This unworthiness had tended to settle in his stomach ever since he had been young, and it seemed to expend itself in the worst ways.

Whatever the reason, the time spent apart had slowly made Philippe feel more alone than ever and provided a terrible escape to his internal troubles. Lisolette was always a comfort, even if he would never directly admit the pain he was feeling for letting Chevalier go, or the pain he was feeling for not wanting him back at the time. But the princess couldn’t provide the exact words he needed to hear, and it was unbearable for him to think all he simply needed to do was ask for them from Lorraine.

And so, after the words had finally been spoken by Chevalier and repeated by the duke in the midst of long-awaited kisses, the mornings had been constant moments of reflection, both painful and lovely at once. Philippe would question how he had ever been able to go without the soft skin of the man, gently drawing circles on Chevalier’s back as he remained in deep slumber. Or, he would glare at Lorraine, still angry at him for causing him such agony that was inner turmoil. It was the dissonance found within himself that he loathed, but also that he _craved_ , and only Chevalier could provide it.

He lay back and let out a sigh, closing his eyes just so he could try and fall asleep once more. There was no point in being awake and in bed if there was no one to share it with. However, sleep could not come to him, as a small hum echoed into his room from down the hallway. He peeked an eye open as the humming came closer - some tune of Italy, or wherever - and felt the corner of his lips twitch as a half-naked Chevalier came through the door, carrying a plate of decadent fruit and wine. The man paused at the door, quirking his head and smiling at Philippe in bed.

“I thought you had forgotten about me.” Philippe whispered as Lorraine walked slowly to the bed, gently placing the tray down on the side table. The duke had said this with a grin, but Chevalier could have sworn he heard a hint of truth in his voice, and decided to touch up on it later. At the moment, he simply let out a sharp _tsk, tsk_.

With a lowered head and raised eyebrows, Chevalier gently shook his head and took a seat on the edge of the mattress. “My love, do you know me at all? Would there ever be a time I could forget about you?”

Philippe smiled sheepishly and rolled his eyes softly, partially because of his own silliness, and partially because of the dramatic tone in Chevalier’s voice. “Besides, even if I did, I am not one to overlook birthdays; They’re the most extravagant days of the year, darling.” Lorraine grinned and leaned down to kiss Philippe, an action so automatic it felt engrained in him. Still, every time their lips touched, it felt like the first night they were together, and both men ignited with the sensation.

Chevalier shifted to lie down beside the duke, carefully placing a hand on the jeweled cheek of his lover. Their lips moved like the waves, in and out in an action as simple as breathing but also as a rhythmic push and pull. There bodies moved ever closer, taking in each others lean physiques molded against themselves, and only parted so the Chevalier could whisper supple words against Philippe’s red lips.

_“Joyeux Anniversaire,_ my love.”

 

The men basked in the sun as the minutes passed, either lightly speaking about court gossip or simply leaning against one another, mimicking the rise of and fall of their chests in sync. If you asked Philippe, though he would never say it out loud, it was this that he had missed the most when he was at war. The only thing was that no one could ever ask of this to Philippe, especially not Chevalier, as he knew that a spiral was seemingly inevitable when any subject of war was brought up. In any case, both embraced the warmth of the September light and of the others stripped body.

It was around noon that the doors to Philippe’s bedroom swung open once more, and he openly glared at the figure as it walked to him and Chevalier’s intertwined bodies. Maybe it was because his brother had always seemed to ruin his birthday’s since they were children, or maybe it was because Philippe had always let him. Either way, Louis let out a slight cough as a sign that could only mean, _it is your duty to greet me_ _properly._

“Your highness.” Mumbled a lax Chevalier, pushing back his blonde locks to give Louis a small nod. Philippe said nothing, of course. It was never a matter of courtesy between him and his brother, and both acknowledged that in their often absent greetings.

“Brother, I was hoping I could take you out hunting on this fine fall day. My present to you in honor of your birth.” Louis smiled tightly while Philippe glanced down at Chevalier, and then back to his brother. There was no way, in any life, that he could prefer the offer made to what he was doing at the moment.

“I’m sorry, but I can’t take you up on that offer today. I have other priorities.” Philippe said, and a wicked but subtle smirk emerged on Chevalier’s face.

Louis simply nodded, as it seemed he had much expected that answer considering the circumstances. “I have to say I’m a bit disappointed. I thought you would enjoy catching a boar to celebrate.” He shook his head slightly, and Philippe frowned. _How dare he make guilt rise up in him this easily?_

“However, because it is a special day, I will allow you to slip away this time. We can go some time next week. Sound good?” Questioned Louis, and Philippe nodded with his teeth clenched. He loved his brother, he did, but sometimes it felt as though - and was most certainly implied by Louis - that the love he gave was nothing less than a duty the king expected.

Louis then turned around and walked out of the room, the doors quickly closing behind him. With that, Philippe’s head fell back onto the pillow and his eyes glanced up on the ceiling in a frustrated manner. He couldn’t understand how after all the battles fought for his brother, all the women married for his brother, and all the tears he had wept for his brother, he still felt unappreciated in a most self-restricting way.

“Philippe…” The Chevalier murmured as he sat up next to the duke. “…My love, it’s —”

“ I do not wish to discuss it.” Philippe interrupted, complicit in his own reduction of his emotions. In truth, he did want to discuss it with Lorraine, more than anyone else. There were times in the past when he had brought up deep-rooted feelings to the man, and it had healed him briefly in ways he hadn’t thought possible, and yet it still troubled him to reveal parts of himself openly. He could tell that Chevalier wanted to push more, wanted to get to those moments of vulnerability that pulled them oh so much closer, but the hesitation in this act was clear. It was not a risk Lorraine was willing to take.

“Well don’t… At least don’t let it ruin your birthday. We were having such a splendid time before.” Chevalier leaned down and placed soft pecks beginning at Philippe’s neck, slowly moving down to his bare chest. Philippe closed his eyes, and tried terribly hard to focus on the sensation rather than his own inner workings. “What was that thing you were saying about other priorities?” The Chevalier smirked and Philippe’s lips turned up briefly before turning into a slight ‘o’ as his lover reached the spot right between his legs.

However much love Chevalier put into the masquerades and salon events he planned, he must have put ten times that love into what he did with Philippe. His mouth, gentle yet skilled, clung to the other man’s cock as though it was his last duty on earth, and never dared to so much as glance away from the beauty that was Philippe’s face in ecstasy. He watched in awe as Philippe’s back arched in the most astounding way, and his breath became uneven in pleasure. Reaching up, Chevalier grabbed his lover’s right hand with his, squeezing in an effort to show his joy, his enchantment, his _gratitude_.

Right before Philippe was close to finishing in a fit of passion, Chevalier removed his mouth and leaned up to the other man, taking in the sight of his flushed face. His lips locked withthose of Philippe, who tasted himself with fervor and a complete feeling that could only be described as bliss. _There was no need for self-loathing_ \- thought Philippe - _when one could have this in their life_. His breath grew heavy again as Chevalier moved against him, their bodies moving together in friction.

“Fuck….” Philippe purred, head thrown back as Chevalier’s lips attached to his neck.“…me.” In a world full of turmoil and scarce knowledge of lurking danger, the Chevalier happily obliged, in order to live this moment fully, completely.

Fully, completely. That is exactly what he would give his dear, dear _Duc D’Orléans._

 

The daylight quickly turned into the afternoon dusk, and still the men had yet to leave the room. Food had been occasionally brought in, and they both reveled in feeding each other the luxurious offerings that came with living at the palace.

_A glorious birthday, after all_ , thought Philippe as he wandered to the window and glanced at the garden below. _Perhaps Versailles can provide me with something in the end._

“Would you like to go on a walk?” Philippe asked while his gaze remained on the grounds. “I think I could use some air.” A pair of arms scooped around his naked midriff as a stubbled chin came to rest upon his shoulder. He pulled the body closer from behind him, still not over the vast amount of physical affection that had been shared throughout the day.

“If that is what you wish, my darling.” Responded Chevalier, and soon the two men were walking past the fountains and trees, taking in the golden hour glow. Philippe was in awe of Lorraine during this time of light, when his blonde hair seemingly sparkled and left his face flecked with amber. He took several glances to the other man as they walked in sync, not touching or talking, just relaxing in the comfortable silence.

It was broken by Philippe, unexpectedly. “I don’t thank you enough, my love.”

“Oh, please, continue on. I long to hear more of what you owe me.” Joked Lorraine, sending a gleaming smile his way. However, Philippe turned his gaze downward quickly and his pace slowed.

“I’m serious, Chevalier. There are things I can’t… won’t talk about.” Philippe took a deep breath and stopped completely. Chevalier, with furrowed eyebrows, remained curiously concerned of his lover. “Things… I can’t admit. And I thank you for not questioning it. It will arrive when it arrives.”

If he was talking about the war, his brother, or his feelings about his relationship with the Chevalier, Lorraine could not be certain. But these moments of open communication from Philippe’s were rare, however brief, and Chevalier stepped forward to grab the calloused hands of the other man.

“And I will be there when it does.” He leaned forward to place a soft kiss on Philippe’s lips, moving his hands up so they grasped his lover’s face gently. “My star… _my king_. I am at your side.” With the reflection of the setting sun in both of their eyes, another day came to a close. Perhaps it was the will of God. Perhaps it was the will of Louis. It didn’t matter for Philippe, because at that moment, all he felt was the will of love.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Not sure if this will be drabbles or have an overarching storyline, but please let me know what you think!


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